Unnatural Selection
by Tayta Malikai
Summary: Wind blows, rain falls, and the strong prey upon the weak. Alex Mercer was made to be the strongest of all...but in a world of increasingly digitalized warfare underpinned by cybernetics and conspiracies, his status as an apex predator is called into question, and he is forced to evolve himself to survive in this ever changing world.


_**Unnatural Selection**_

* * *

**Interval 01: Introgression**

**Chapter 1: Point of Entry**

* * *

It was the dawn of another bright, sunny day on the outskirts of New York City.

Cheerful rays of light shone upon the city's inhabitants, suffusing the air with warmth and optimism. Even in these dire times for America's economy, the new day unfolding promised the continuation of her citizen's daily lives.

It was the last such dawn that New York would ever experience.

As his helicopter lowered itself into the square Red Crown Command had marked out on the pavement, Captain Robert Cross had to admit a high level of respect for Blackwatch's logistical capabilities. Blackwatch's forces had been standing by and on alert for a week, but the order for full deployment into Manhattan had come only thirty-six hours ago. In that time, they had already set up a field headquarters in Battery Park and several forward operating bases out in the city proper. A great deal of weapons, vehicles and all forms of materiel had already been delivered and was being unloaded right now, while the bulk was still yet to come.

All of it was marvellously expensive in terms of manpower and budget, but Blackwatch could not afford to spare expense when it came to fulfilling their mission. Every vestige of infection, every single loose virus cell or bacterium was an abomination that, unchecked, could bring the entire human race to the brink of destruction. It was the duty of Blackwatch, and all who performed under its umbrella, to use any and all means it could to stop this from happening.

The helicopter set down, and Cross stepped out, followed by the squad of Blackwatch soldiers he'd been crammed in with. He stopped briefly to stretch his limbs after the long flight, using the moment to regard the bustling hive of activity around him. Seeing Blackwatch soldiers mobilizing in earnest, even if they were only the rank-and-file, was a necessary reminder of his role within the organization, and the standard he expected to set for others.

Then a pair of cyborg troops caught his eye, and he scowled at the sight of them each hauling a crate of munitions far larger than themselves. He recognized them as contractors working for World Marshal, Inc, an up-and-coming American private military company that was expanding rapidly amidst a wave of controversy.

Soldiers like them had been labelled "the next generation of warfare". Cyborg technology was still relatively new, and expensive, but it had already seen widespread use in empowering soldiers beyond what even nanomachine regulation could provide. Carbon nanotube fibre muscles allowed speed and strength beyond even the best Olympian, neural implants let soldiers make life-or-death decisions without hesitation, and carbon-composite chassis let them absorb fire with contemptuous ease. The perfect soldiers to dominate the battlefields of the future.

On one hand, Cross was glad to have them fighting by his side; he'd fought with and against cyborg soldiers like them during the late SOP years, and knew just how deadly they were in combat. But on the other...he didn't trust them to make coffee right, never mind have his back during combat, for the same reason. He knew from experience that PMCs, and most of their troops, were first and foremost about lining their own pockets. They turned war into a commodity, something to profit from, uncaring about the consequences of their actions. Blackwatch might sometimes have been overzealous in its duties, true, but at least it fought for a higher cause, a noble one.

Those soldiers weren't loyal to any one set of ideals, simply going wherever the money took them. But even the profiteers were preferable to those who not only followed war, but revelled in it, and the suffering and destruction they took part in. Even with the things he'd seen and done over his Blackwatch career, Cross found himself disgusted by some of the atrocities he'd seen them perpetuate in the middle of the world's conflict zones.

Curious about how the rest of Blackwatch viewed their erstwhile allies, Cross used his nanomachine codec to access the local PSOP network set up by Red Crown. Amongst all the procedural work order processing and general combat anticipation anxiety were strands of individual thought which he delved into, using his authority as a high-ranking Blackwatch operative.

His scowl eased somewhat as he found that individual soldiers shared his mistrust of World Marshal's contractors. Satisfied with his appraisal, he backed out of the network, and strode off towards the dockside warehouses that had been repurposed to house Red Crown.

His PSOP ID allowed him to pass through the building's checkpoints without difficulty, and he entered the command centre to be greeted with a hive of activity even louder than what he'd seen outside. He knew how to negotiate the crowds, and he shouldered his way through analysts relaying information and technicians installing equipment to reach the raised platform at the far end.

Lieutenant General Peter Randall, commander of the 1st Biological Warfare Command "Blackwatch", was waiting for him. Like Cross, the general was a seasoned veteran of biological warfare, although his moment of distinction and valour had been long ago, back during the midst of the Cold War. Even Cross only vaguely knew about what had transpired, although the price the general had paid was clearly visible in the form of a dark grey prosthetic left arm and a glare that could melt butter. Probably literally, in this day and age.

Cross wasn't sure how to feel about that. Randall was certainly entitled to remedy the disability he'd received for performing his duties, but the artificial limb was just...uncanny, as close-minded as that sentiment was. Still, he refused to let his preconceptions cloud his judgement.

"Captain," the general began, looking up from a holograph depicting a street map of Manhattan. Cross could see gold and blue symbols dotting the map, indicating the planned deployment of Blackwatch and World Marshal units respectively. He recognized the locations of two red biohazard symbols that flashed angrily – Penn Station and the Gentek building. "I have an assignment that I think you and your team are well-suited for. Come this way."

Cross obediently followed Randall to the rear of his platform, where a door secured by a keypad and a PSOP scanner led into a small, enclosed room. The walls reflected a harsh fluorescent glare from the ceiling, while the spartan layout of two chairs and a table put Cross in mind of an interrogation room. As he entered, Randall locked the door behind them.

"This room is secure," Randall continued as soon as it was done. Cross knew what that meant: a hermetically-sealed space incorporating a Faraday cage to prevent any physical or electronic security breach. It was working, judging from the way his codec was suddenly cut off from Red Crown's network.

The general held out a tablet computer. "Uplink your codec," he ordered. "Frequency 143.71."

Cross did so, and was rewarded with a folder of data being downloaded and distributed into his nanomachines' cache within seconds. Information flashed up into the virtual space created by his optical implants: mission objectives, building schematics, friendly and enemy force composition, arrangements for insertion and extraction, and anything else that could considered relevant to his upcoming mission.

General Randall gave Cross a few moments to go over the data, but he was not a patient man, and there was important work to be done. "Do you understand your mission, Captain?" he asked.

Cross performed that strange act of double-focus that his cranial implants enabled him to do, so that he could read the information and focus on the general simultaneously. "I am to enter the Gentek facility, along with my team, in order to secure data regarding the viral research undertaken there. Then I am to secure the asset codename 'Mother', pending transport to a secure site."

"Good. You leave immediately. Do us proud, Captain." Randall turned to leave the room.

"Sir..." Cross hesitated. He didn't like to ask too many questions of Blackwatch's higher echelons, even if he was a part of them to some degree. It wasn't the mark of a good, loyal, and above all trustworthy operative to ask questions. But he deemed the omission in his briefing to be significant enough for this. "What's World Marshal's stake in this operation?"

The creases in Randall's forehead deepened, and Cross wondered if he was wading into dangerous waters. After a tense moment, the general responded. "They're still getting their act together in the city. There are...provisions for them to provide support if the operation is compromised. But this is first and foremost a Blackwatch operation, and is to be conducted with the utmost sensitivity and discretion. Understood?"

Cross exhaled slightly in relief. "Yes, sir."

"Then get it done." Randall flicked his head pointedly towards the door.

Cross nodded, and took his leave, heading back to the grounds of Battery Park where his helicopter was waiting.

The clock in his virtual display read 0809 hours.

* * *

Somehow, he knew it was going to be a long day.

From a standing start, Alex Mercer ran, tensed, and leaped off the edge of one of Manhattan's countless skyscrapers.

A rush of wind howled past his ears as he spread out his arms and legs into the gliding position, maximizing the effects of drag to keep him in the sky as long as possible. The momentum of his charged jump continued to carry him forward, allowing him to cover the most astonishing distances in no time at all.

The audacity of what he was doing felt exhilarating, and utterly glorious. By all rights, it should have been an impossible feat, even for him, to traverse the skies in such a simple and yet incredible fashion. Just because he could run headlong _up_ four hundred-metre skyscrapers and take dozens of bullets or explosives to his chest or head without slowing down didn't automatically translate to being able to _fly_. And yet, he was doing it right now, and he could do it again.

He couldn't explain where the idea had come from, only that it had developed in the midst the pursuit following his..._absorption_ of CPT Mac Marshall, the man who'd directed the strike against him. Those mysterious 'Blackwatch' soldiers, clad in full-body, face-concealing gear, had come after him once again, armed with their machine guns and helicopters.

He'd leaped into the air to avoid most of the gunfire, aware of the need to _get the hell out of there_ before they could send more soldiers after him. Some sort of instinct had awoken in him then, the same instinct that had compelled him to _absorb_ PFC James Goodwin and 1LT Charles Perri when they'd tried to accost him in the alley. He'd needed to cover a large distance quickly whilst staying out of the soldiers' range, and suddenly, it had happened. He hadn't even realized what he'd done until he'd escaped the area, when he was catching his breath in another secluded alley somewhere.

They felt natural to him, these powers; he could do all these magnificent things just as easily as walking. Actually, now that he reflected upon it, it _was_ easier than walking. In all the time he'd been awake, not even a whole twelve hours, he'd only been standing still twice: both times when he'd been talking to his sister, Dana, in her safe house. Even then, he'd been somewhat aware of some pressing urge to move, leave, run, climb, leap, glide, anything to have some semblance of motion.

And yet, it was the idea that it would have been _rude_ to walk away that had prevented him. The idea wasn't his, hadn't come from his train of thought, but had been embedded in the memories of the men he'd _absorbed_; a part of the amalgamation of personalities and experience that, if he concentrated in just the right way, he could call upon to guide him in this world he'd awoken in.

It was these memories which told him no, what he could do _wasn't_ natural, or even possible for a normal human being. Not even the strange, blurred concepts of _cyborgs_ or _artificial musculatures_ could reconcile the logical gap. It explained why people, the ones who populated and went about their daily lives in the streets of New York, always shrieked and cowered and fled at the mere sight of him. What he could do wasn't _human_.

So what did that make him? He had no idea. But he was going to find out.

Alex's form began to drift back down to the ground, having reached the limit of his momentum. He let it happen, angling himself so that he could land on one of the low-rise buildings in front of him.

For once, his touchdown on an expanse of slate grey was little more than a muffled thump, as he instinctively dropped into a crouch to better dissipate the force. A few cracks appeared in the concrete, but no shards were dislodged from an impact crater. It was a perfect landing, directly in the centre of the rooftop.

Satisfied with his minor success, Alex rose from his crouch, and walked to the edge of the roof to get a view of his target.

He'd been here only last night, but amidst his confusion and haste he hadn't managed a proper look at the place where he'd first awoken. The Gentek facility was even larger than he remembered, a thick column of glossy blue windows that stretched three hundred metres up into the sky, near the limits of his vision.

If Gentek were really the ones responsible for creating him, they or whoever was running them were even more powerful than he'd thought.

As he wondered how he was going to find Elizabeth Greene inside such a large building, a resonant trill rang in his ear. It took a moment for him to remember the headset Dana had given him; he was mildly surprised it hadn't fallen out during all the running and jumping he'd been doing. For some reason, the small device had been difficult to wedge into place between his ear and his hood, and it was now pressing uncomfortably into his head. Nevertheless he tried to endure it – for Dana's sake.

He tapped the button to respond to the call, like his memories told him. "Dana?" he said.

"Alex," his sister replied, and he could picture her the way he'd left her, hunched over her computer in a swivel chair. "You're at Gentek already? I didn't think you could get there so quickly."

Alex shrugged. "Well, yeah." How could he explain something that just happened naturally?

"Right." There was a tense moment, but Dana didn't pursue the subject. "How's it looking?"

Alex looked down at the streets below. "There're soldiers all over the place. Everything's been barricaded. They look like...whatever it is, something big is going on here."

"That figures," Dana muttered. "The military's been landing in the south all morning. I reckon the two are definitely related. Do you think you can get inside?"

"I'm not sure." Alex stared at the blue energy fields that stretched across the mouths of the streets surrounding the Gentek facility, and the way the Blackwatch soldiers seemed to be avoiding passing through them. Whether because of instinct or stolen memory, he didn't like the look of those blue fields.

The direct approach was definitely out – there were simply too many soldiers to get past, and while getting shot didn't seem to really hurt him, it still _hurt_. No way was he going to deliberately expose himself to that level of danger.

Two things caught his eye, then. Several of the blue fields had breaks in them, a tiny gap that was just large enough for two people to walk through together. He only saw that because a Blackwatch officer, denoted by white clothing as opposed to black, and another soldier had just done so.

Of course. Just take the form of a soldier and walk in. Nobody would notice another trooper amongst the crowd.

"Alex? Still there?"

"I think I've found my way in," he replied. Already, he was becoming anxious to move. Even up here, he was potentially vulnerable if a helicopter happened to pass by. "Look, I'll just..." He searched for the right words to say. "Keep in touch, okay?"

"Alright. Stay safe, Alex." The call ended, letting Alex focus on what he needed to do.

He concentrated, letting one particular set of memories flood his mind. His ability to disguise himself was more than just a simple change of appearance. The changes began to ripple throughout his body, as he felt himself _becoming_ 1LT Charles Perri, taking his form, assuming his memories of _existing_.

Within a single moment, Alex had disguised himself as a Blackwatch officer, completely indistinguishable from the rest.

A strange sensation pricked his ear as he completed the transformation. Confused, he glanced down, seeing a clump of twisted plastic and electronics at his feet. Then he prodded his head with his right hand, where a bulky helmet had taken the place of his hood.

Oh, right. Dana's headset. _Oops_.

He stared at the mangled headset for a few seconds, before he realized that staring at it wouldn't un-mangle it. With a shrug, he turned and walked to the rear of the rooftop. There weren't any soldiers patrolling in the alley twenty storeys below, so he casually hopped off the edge.

His landing was much noisier than the one he'd executed previously, and for a moment Alex worried that some nearby troops might have heard the noise. When none came to investigate, he paused briefly out of habit – _his or Perri's?_ he wondered idly – to brush the creases out of his uniform, before walking out of the alley and into the street.

It was easy for Alex to mingle into the Blackwatch formation, as they were largely distracted by a crowd of curious civilians which was beginning to form in front of the outermost barricades.

As he took note of this, the street suddenly shook, and he whipped around to see _something_ thudding down the street towards him. For a moment, Alex was completely flummoxed, scrambling for some memory to explain what he was seeing. All he could register were two thick legs stomping into the ground, supporting some kind of chassis bristling with weapons and sensors.

Apparently, this thing was called a..._Gekko_, the swirling memories told him. Some kind of war machine, ubiquitous on today's battlefields. It was powerful, a force to be reckoned with, and yet already outdated within the space of a few years.

As Alex was struggling to assimilate the concept of _Unmanned Gears_, he failed to notice the bipedal platform's movement until it was almost right on top of him. He jerked up, but it had already stopped, and was using its legs to bend down to him.

Alex didn't dare to move as the Gekko's chassis moved closer to him, aware of the Blackwatch soldiers walking nearby. Glaring lights flashed from the side of the Gekko's chassis into his face, making him squint.

Then the Gekko emitted some kind of mooing sound, and straightened up. Alex couldn't help a sigh of relief.

"Hey, get out of the way!" some random trooper shouted, and Alex hastily stepped to the side, allowing the Gekko to make its way to the barricade where it could terrorize the growing crowd.

_Damn_. He couldn't afford to let himself be distracted. Shaking his head at the moment of carelessness, he continued towards the blue energy field.

Nobody tried to stop him, and he made it inside the inner perimeter without further hindrance. His initial impression of the fields was reaffirmed; as he passed through the gap marked by a pair of metal pylons, he felt a sharp tingling sensation, and he caught sight of sparks crackling across his chest. He definitely didn't want to see what would happen if he tried to walk through the field itself.

Now that he was in the courtyard outside, he took a moment to consider the next course of action. The actual skyscraper's security had been significantly beefed up since he'd staggered out of it, with a sturdy barricade having been erected in front of the entrance. A closer inspection revealed a doorway, adorned with features such as a keypad and a keycard reader.

He wouldn't be able to break through the barricade without being noticed. He'd have to find a way to get through the security measures.

Well...he gained the memories of those he absorbed, didn't he? And surely one of the Blackwatch troops milling around here, probably an officer, certainly the commander, would know how to get inside. All he had to do was absorb them, and then he would know. It was so simple, really.

Alex began to circle around the courtyard, examining any officers he saw to see if they fit the bill. There were more of those Gekkos around, seemingly patrolling the courtyard, and Alex took care to stay clear of them. One close encounter was enough already.

_There_. A soldier in a white uniform, next to a cluster of crates filled with supplies. Their attention was preoccupied by a laptop open on top of one of the crates, allowing Alex to walk up behind them unsuspected.

He stopped, looked around to make sure. Nobody was watching. This was his chance.

Alex let the bizarre instincts rise to the fore, feeling his consciousness surge out of him and expand into the space around him, before being focused towards the hapless officer standing right in front of him.

The woman managed a startled "Hey, what the –!" as the seething black tentacles pierced her back and wrapped around her head. A flick of a tentacle tip, and her neck snapped like the stem of a wine glass, rendering her body immobile so that Alex Mercer could draw it into himself.

As the woman's biomass melted to merge with his own, Alex felt the memories of 2LT Anita Warren rush into his consciousness.

"_Get those barricades set up! Red Crown wants the place locked down tight!"_

_..._

"_All done, I'm sending the codes. Here's the card."_

_..._

"_There's been a change of plans. They're going to enter and extract from the roof instead."_

"_So much for those security measures. Better dispose of this card then."_

_..._

"_Hey, what the –!"_

Alex gasped as he experienced 2LT Warren's untimely death, from _her_ perspective. He felt for himself the agony of being pierced, mercifully cut short by her neck snapping. He'd felt this before, when he'd absorbed Goodwin and Perri and Marshall, but the pain and shock were still just as profound.

Fortunately, none of the other soldiers nearby were close enough to notice. He took a moment to collect himself, blocking out the damning memories from his mind.

_They're part of all this. They're the ones responsible._

Remembering the keycard, he looked down at the crate, seeing it lying next to the laptop. He stared at it briefly, then down at his Blackwatch uniform, not sure where he should put the card. In the end, he decided to just carry it in his hand.

As he made his way back to the barricaded entrance, a dim buzzing got his attention. He looked up, and saw one of Blackwatch's transport helicopters almost directly above him, hovering next to the roof of the Gentek building.

Alex watched as the shape moved out of view, and realized that it was landing on the roof. Of course. Blackwatch was after Elizabeth Greene too. That was the reason for the massive security presence here.

He had to get to her before they did.

He hurried to the doorway, remaining unnoticed as he did so. Recalling the procedure, he swiped the card, causing a green LED to light up, before typing in the alphanumeric string from Warren's memory.

The keypad gave an affirmative beep, and Alex stepped through the opened door into the Gentek building.

* * *

**A/N:** Hope you enjoyed it. Feel free to give any opinions, criticism or advice you think is warranted!


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